


Diptych

by Deannie



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-17
Updated: 1998-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie





	1. You Are Needed

"Doctor Franklin?"

Stephen Franklin turned around, smiling slightly, as if Commander Sinclair had just proved a theory of his. "You're right on time, Commander."

Jeff Sinclair looked at the doctor skeptically. "On time for what?"

Franklin walked around the commander of Babylon 5 and bent over a monitor, checking yet another patient's vital signs. "Exactly five-point-three minutes after any shift ends, you come in here, walk up behind me and say 'Doctor Franklin?' To which I always reply 'No change.'" The doctor looked at Sinclair, really _looked_ at him for the first time today. "Are you getting enough sleep, Commander?"

Jeff snorted tiredly. "Doctor, the president of Earth Alliance was assassinated two months ago, the station is in chaos, and my best friend is lying comatose on a table in isolation with the phrase 'no change' stapled to his shirt." He sighed. "Frankly, I've seen better days."

The doctor looked into the isolab that seemed to be a revolving door for B5's upper echelon. "Commander, I wish I could give you better news, but--"

"He's holding his own," Jeff finished for him. "I know you're doing the best you can, Stephen."

Franklin nodded as Sinclair walked toward the gown-up area outside of "Garibaldi's room," and sighed.

"I just wish I knew what to do better," he muttered dejectedly.

* * * - - - * * *

Jeffrey Sinclair looked at the machines keeping his best friend alive and sighed in disgust. He wanted Michael off of those machines. He wanted the security chief to just wake up and tell him what a horrible hangover he had.

He wanted Michael to live.

"Hey, Michael," he whispered softly, acutely aware of just how uncomfortable the lab stool they'd put next to Michael's bed was. He wondered what it must feel like to be lying on the slab before him.

"We're thinking June for the wedding," he continued, praying his words would be heard. "You'd better be there, friend, or I'll dock your pay."

Jeffrey sat silent for a moment, not knowing what to say next. It didn't matter what he said, anyway. Michael couldn't hear him.

God, one year on this damn station, and he'd already made a mess of things. Well, the universe had made a mess of things, anyway. He and his were just paying the price.

"Michael, if you don't wake up soon, I'll have to ask Ambassador Mollari to throw me my bachelor party." He smiled at his own bad joke. "I'm not sure the station would recover from something like that."

Silence met him where a cynical, sparkling laugh had once been.

"You have to come back soon, Michael," he murmured, running a hand idly over the sleeping man's stubbled hair. "You're needed here."

The deafening silence was broken after a few moments by the shrill beeping of Jeffrey's link.

"Sinclair. Go."

"Commander," came Ivanova's tired voice. She sounded as exhausted as he felt. "You've got a priority message coming in from EarthDome, sir." Her flare for the dramatic led her to pause for a moment. "It's 'Eyes only.' "

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander," he replied, rising from the stool. "Transfer it to my quarters. I'm on my way there now."

He touched his friend's hand briefly. "I'll be back, Michael. Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."

* * * - - - * * *

Jeff sat down on his couch, breathing heavily. They were transferring him. _Now._ He had two weeks to put things in order here, and then he was off to Minbar.

He couldn't leave now! Not with Michael in that bed! Not when his friend needed him. There had to be a way...

 

He was standing in front of Delenn's door before he knew it, and he realized that there was no point in knocking. She was... becoming... as she had been for weeks now. But he needed to talk to someone. Maybe Lennier could--

As if the Minbari had heard his thoughts, the young aide stepped out of Delenn's quarters--very nearly into Sinclair himself.

"Commander," Lennier said, bowing quietly. "I am sorry, I did not know--"

"It's okay, Lennier," Jeffrey assured him.

"Ambassador Delenn is--"

"Still unavailable, yes, I know. I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"About your assignment to Minbar?" Lennier asked bluntly.

"Yes."

"There is nothing I can tell you, Commander. Except that the council feels it is in the best interest of all concerned for you to be there as... a liaison of sorts between our people."

Jeffrey followed as the young Minbari headed toward the transport tube. "I don't deny that the idea intrigues me, Mr. Lennier, it's just that now is not the time. My security chief is in medlab, comatose, Ambassador Delenn--"

"Did not know that this was coming, Commander," Lennier broke in gently. "I am sorry for the timing, but... You are needed there."

* * * - - - * * *

_You are needed there._

Jeff sat staring at his bags for a moment. Needed. Well, damnit! He was needed here, too! Michael needed him. He fell back against the couch, sighing. There was a time when he'd wanted... But Michael had had his own life--his own love. He hadn't needed Jeff's.

Still, Jeff wondered, what if he had only asked?

His gaze shifted to the com unit. Maybe there was a chance--at least to let Michael know how he felt. It was cowardly, leaving it on a com message, but he couldn't sit beside that almost-empty shell and pour his heart out. Taking a deep breath, he rose and headed for the unit.

"Computer? Open a document. For Michael Garibaldi."

After a moment, he heard the telltale beep. "Ready for transmission."

Another deep breath, a forced smile. "Hello, old friend. I hope this message finds you finally well--or at least on your way... I wanted..." He paused, at a loss as to how to continue. "I'm leaving for Minbar today. It isn't my choice to leave you... But I wanted to tell you, before I left... How much you've meant to me..."

* * * - - - * * *

"I'm sorry, Michael," Jeff whispered half an hour later, his hand lightly covering that of his friend as he stood beside the bed. Michael had to wake up now--he _had_ to! The message waiting, with a dozen other get well notes, wasn't enough all of a sudden. He needed to say it to Michael's face. Let him know, now, how he felt...

Yet those words of Lennier's bounced through Jeff's head, through his soul. He was needed.

But he needed to see Michael awake first.

"Carolyn's coming with me." He smiled, trying to sound relaxed. This new love--an old love reborn--was his life now. He knew Michael had never returned the sentiment, and certainly wouldn't change now. "I don't know how well she'll like Minbar--probably be on one survey trip or another until the wedding." He paused. "We'll wait for you, my friend. I still need you as my best man."

"Commander Sinclair, please report to Docking Bay Three."

Ivanova didn't sound any happier to say the words than Jeff was to hear them. He stroked Michael's thinning hair one more time, and whispered his farewell.

"Goodbye, old friend. I'll miss you."

 

* * *

 


	2. You Have One Message

The walk to my quarters has never felt so long before. It's not just this damn cane the doc's got me using... It's Jeff.

No, come on, it's not Jeff, it's everything. It's waking up to find weeks gone, to find a new captain, a new station, really. It's knowing that one of my own guys--one of the guys I _knew_ I could trust--was cold enough to shoot me in the back.

...And of course, there's Jeff.

I think he always knew how I felt about him. Stephen once called it hero-worship, Ivanova called it friendship. Hell, I don't know _what_ I call it, I just know that the one guy I really wanted to see when I woke up--the one that was going to let me know that I was alive and that everything was going to be okay--was Jeff. And he's not here.

He's on _Minbar!_ I mean, hey, I'll admit that Delenn and him always had a sort of... weird relationship, but Jeff going to Minbar for good? That was something I wouldn't have bet on.

Ivanova said she relayed the message to him that I'd woken up. He seemed happy about it, she said. So why hasn't he called? Why not even one little message, "Hey, Michael, I heard you're not space junk. Good job." I don't know why I'm so angry about it. After all, he's got a fiancee, a life (on _Minbar_!)...

But I miss him.

 

I schlep into my quarters--finally!--and the computer chirps at me.

"You have fifty-two messages waiting."

Fifty-two? It'll take me a week to get through them! The question is out of my mouth before I know it.

"Are there any from Commander Sinclair?"

"You have one message from Ambassador Sinclair..." Ambassador. Now there's a title you can hang your hat on. "...dated February 20, 2259."

Post-frag, but pre-Minbar. That's it. One message. I wonder what it says. "If you're hearing this then you're not dead, which is great. Oh, by the way, see you later, I'm off to Minbar to hang out with Delenn's cronies. Have fun, and make sure not to let your second shoot you in the back again." Just what I want to hear.

"Would you like to hear the message from Ambassador Sinclair, dated February 20--"

"No."

No.

I just realized that I really _don't_ want to hear it. He's got his own life--always has... Just that now, it doesn't include me. If he wanted to stay in touch, he'd've called _after_ I woke up, right? This is probably just a courtesy message to let me know that he did at least _notice_ I'd been shot. I don't need that. I don't need anymore goodbyes or see yas or so longs. He left a message to tell me that he's leaving me behind, and I _don't_ have to hear that.

God, Garibaldi, you're really pathetic. You're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself because something you never had the guts to go after anyway is suddenly out of reach. If you wanted him to stay, you should have said something a whole lot earlier. Get over it.

Get over _him._

 

Okay, Mikey. Deep breath.

"Computer, delete message."

There you go, Jeff. Short and sweet.

Goodbye.  


* * *

_The End_


End file.
